Disaster Strikes
by Konsui's Little Brother
Summary: At first, it was just a headache. It was just a simple headache. It shouldn't have turned into something so horrible, so devasting. It shouldn't have sent Japan reeling, as a person and a country. But it did. Written for the Tohaku earthquake, 2011.


Japan had a headache. No, no, that wasn't the right word for it. It was more like a migraine. Or maybe like someone was beating him over the head with a hammer. Yes, that last one sounded about right. The fact that a good portion of the other Nation's were currently screaming at each other across the table really wasn't helping much either.

As most World Meeting's went, the fighting had started almost immideatly after Germany had called it to a start. America was argueing with England over something, Japan thought that it had to do with the taste of some food or another, but he wasn't sure. Only bits and pieces of their conversation had made it past the throbbing behind his temples. At the same time, only parts of the other Nation's fights were making themselves known to him. Unfortunatly, the longer the meeting went on, the less Japan was able to understand and now most of what he heard was just a garbled, confused mess.

Another particularly loud shout, coming from none other than America, had Japan gritting his teeth and shoving his chair back and away from the table. The rough wood scraped against the linolium floor, somehow managing to create a noise loud enough to catch the attention of almost all of the argueing Nations. It also had the rather unfortunate side-effect of doubling the pounding in the normally-reserved Nation's head.

One hand flying up to clutch uselessly at his forehead, fingers slowly kneading the pale skin there, Japan sent an apologetic smile towards the head of the table. "I am very sorry Germany but I must leave this meeting early."

The larger, blonde-haired man blinked rather owlishly. The request wasn't completely foreign, as both Romano and Turkey were known to request leave from the meetings on a regular basis, but Germany couldn't remember a time when Japan didn't stay to a meetings end. Even if the meeting's primary topic wasn't about his own country, the Asian man was always one of the first to arrive and generally one of the last to leave; though the latter was largely due to the fact that Japan stayed on many occasions to walk out of the building with Greece.

"Is something the matter, Japan?" Germany had noticed that the older Nation had been a little...off... since the meeting started. He was always reserved during these meetings but he'd been even more so today, not saying much more than a polite 'hello' at the very beginning.

"I...am not completely sure. I have a bad headache and I must return home to check on my people. I am sure you will all understand." Japan gave them a slow, careful nod, the closest he was going to get to a bow that day, before turning and walking towards the door on stiff legs.

That was the thing with Nations. They didn't get sick the same way regular people got sick. Viruses didn't affect them, colds never hit them, sickness didn't come easily. Instead, it came when the land that their souls were bound to, and the people living on that land, were in peril. When disaster struck the country, the Nation felt it on their own body. When fear ran rampant through the people, it was heard and felt in the Nations own mind.

So, of course, when they felt as awful as Japan did now it was only obvious to think that something was wrong in his country. Hopefully, it would just be a small problem. Perhaps one of his bosses, a member of the country's government, was having a slight money crisis? But that wouldn't normally cause a headache of this magnitude. No, something to do with the land itself would be a more reasonable conclusion...

As it was, no one bothered to stop the Asian man from leaving. The meeting did not necisarily need him there. They had orginally, before they were all side-tracked with their own personal arguements, set out to just go over the current relations every one had with the meetings current host country; England. Besides, the condition of a Nation's country came above all else.

The door to the meeting room closed with a strangly loud click. Running a hand through his hair, Germany cleared his throat to get the other Nation's attention and restart the meeting up. Maybe they'd even be able to get somewhere this time instead of bursting into arguements. "As I was trying to say, Engl-"

Germany was once more interrupted, though this time it was by Italy waving a hand in front of his face. "Duetsu! Uhm, Duetsu?" The red-haired Italian whined.

Sighing, Germany ran a hand through his hair and gazed down at the shorter Nation. "What is it, Italy?"

"Duetsu! It's almost twelve! Can we stop for lunch now? Ple~ase, Duetsu?" Italy stuck his bottom lip out in a pout and jabbed his hand in the direction of the large clock on the wall. It was indeed going on noon which was typically the time that Germany dismissed the meeting for a short lunch break.

"Alright. Everyone, the meeting is dismissed for lunch."

ELSEWHERE

Stumbling up the stairs of his house, leaning heavily on the ornatly carved railing as he did, Japan struggled to get to his bedroom. He needed to get to the phone in there, the Black Phone, and contact the government of his country. Warn them that something, something _awful_, was about to happen. That they had to start preparing safe-houses and stocking up supplies and preparing to rescue the people from whatever was going to happen.

He didn't actually _know_ what was about to happen, a rare thing for a Nation to expierience, but he knew it was going to be big. He could feel it, and not just by the massive pounding of his head or the awful churning of his stomach. No. He could tell whatever was going to happen would be huge from the deep connection that he shared with the land of Japan, with his country and his people, with the very air that the people of the Land Of The Rising Sun breathed.

A particularly large jolt of pain shot through Japan's head, throbbing right behind his eyes and making them well up with tears that just stung all the more, right as he reached the top of the landing. For the first time in a very long time, Japan cursed the builders of his lovely home. With it's sprawling maze-like corridors his room was still quite a ways away from him; down the hall, four rooms on the left.

Filling his lungs with air, clean and fresh and head-clearing, Japan went to take another step towards his goal...Only to have an unbearable pain rip through his body. It felt like someone had just stabbed a knife through his left side, wedging it inbetween his ribs and jerkjerk_jerking_ it!

An undignified scream tore its way through Japan's lips as his legs gave way and he found himself crumpling to the floor. White light flashed in front of his eyes as his head made contact with the wooden floor, another jolt of pain shooting through his body as it did.

Japan managed to get one arm under him, body lifted partially off the floor, before his brain registered what was happening. And by then, it was too late. Pain ripped through his body and, once again, his head came in contact with the unforgiving floor as his arm gave way. The shudders hit his body at almost the exact same time; large, body-racking spasms that made his whole body jerk.

That's when the screams started up, too. Loud, horrifing cries that echoed in his mind, blotting out everything else. The screams of his people as their homes fell apart on them and the ground was ripped from under their feet, as buildings crumbled and family members were lost, as they were injured and died; he heard every scream in his mind and he felt every wound on his own body.

A soft voice in the back of his mind supplied that what he was feeling was the beginning of an earthquake, a large one no doubt, but the voice was quickly smothered by the screams. The wails. The cries; for help, for someone to save them, for the pain to just. go. away.

But Japan couldn't do anything for them, nothing more than bear the pain beside them.

Without warning the tremors increased and his body spasmed, slamming against the wood. He could feel the bruises start to form, along his jaw-line and his shoulders, from the repeated contact but compared to the sensations ripping up his side, it was nothing.

With the new wave of tremors, tremors that his people were feeling as well, came another round a screams. They were loud, so very loud, pounding against the inside of his head, drowning out all other noises; even the sound of his own yells. The migraine from earlier was nothing but an irritating memory now compared to the splitting pain in his head. It felt like it would just crack open at any moment, spilling the laments of his country out into his house.

The pain in his side suddenly spread, reaching out from his rib-cage towards the center of his stomache, as the earthquake moved further inland. Japan let out a howl of pain, unable to do anything to help lessen the pain while he was spasming in time with the land. He couldn't even curl in on himself, something he desperatly wanted to do.

Instead, he just had to endure it.

A wave of heat suddenly tore through Japan's body, wrenching another screech out of his pale lips. His trembling back arched off the ground as the heat travelled, the skin along the left side of his stomach and lower left chest burning and blistering; angry red welts rising out of suddenly charred skin, spreading and stinging and burning and covering, only to be pressed down against and torn by the harsh material of his business shirt. But the heat didn't stop there. No. It broke off from the large burnt section, thin tendrils reaching out across his stomache and wrapping around to his back.

Back slamming down against the ground again, dark purple bruises forming along his spine, Japan suddenly found that he couldn't breathe. It had been difficult before, with his breath coming out in ragged gasps as dust filled his lungs and the shakes knocked the wind out of him repeatedly, but now he couldn't breath at all.

And his first instinct, to reach up and claw at his throat and yank away whatever was _choking_ him, wasn't something he could do. He had no actual control of his limbs anymore, no way to get the spasming hands to co-operate with what his mind wanted them to do. It just wasn't possible for him anymore.

Coldness, like the ice that fell so often in Russia's homeland, washed over him when the choking feeling started. As the howls continued to ring from him, uncontroled and unheard, he could faintly feel the tissue of his throat rip. Blood filled his mouth, along with a salty liqued that his mind identified as sea-water, and ran out of the corners of his mouth and down his chin. Japan's screams suddenly turned into garbled noises as the two liqueds merged in his throat; choking him even more than he already was.

An invisible wave crashed down on his still twitching body, plowing him down into the floor-boards. The cold contradicted with the heat dancing across his skin already, the salt digging into the burns and scratches that covered his body. Wave after wave of nothingness crashed down on him and, with another blinding flash in front of his eyes, he didn't just hear his people's pleads for help as they ran from the tsunami. He saw them, too.

The Meeting Room

"Yao-sama?"

How such a quiet voice could interrupt all of the arguements going on so throughly was a mystery but, at the soft mention of the Chinese-man's human name, all chatter had stopped and all eyes had turned to the shy woman standing in the doorway. Of course, it had been his _human_ name that was called.

China turned his eyes from where he'd been watching France and England argue to the secretary. There was something off in her coal-colored eyes, pale pink lips pulled into a tight frown, that set him on edge. Something that brought ill-boding into the room. "What is it, Mei-san aru? I have told you before that I am not to be interrupted while I am in here, haven't I aru?"

"Yes, sir, you have but..." The mousy-faced secretary suddenly pulled herself down into a low bow. She bent at the hips, hands clasped in front of her waist, ebony hair falling from it's bun and into her eyes. "I'm very sorry, Yao-sama, sir, but there is a news report on that I think you should see."

"A news report aru?" China blinked. The World Meeting had been interrupted because of a news report? That wasn't something that should happen. Unless it was a dire emergency concerning one of the countries, no one that wasn't a Nation was supposed to interfere with the Meeting's. Crossing his arms over his chest with an annoyed huff, China cast Mei a dissapointed look. Really, she had been around long enough to know better than this.

"Yes sir, a news report." Mei straightened herself up, not bothering to brush the loose strands of hair from her face. "It is something that you need to see, Yao-sama. In fact," She paused, knowing full well that this was going beyond anything she should ever do. "I believe that you will all want to see this."

Japan's house

They wouldn't stop screaming. Screaming for their family, for their friends, for their children and wives and husbands and someone tojustsavethem. And Japan couldn't do anything to help them.

He couldn't even do anything to help himself.

Another harsh 'wave' crashed against him, smothering him and forcing the little bit of air that he had managed to gasp in out of his lungs. He could taste the dirty water that washed through his towns and valleys, taste the salt and the copper and the _pain_ that it brought with it, ever present in his mouth and his throat.

His body wasn't trembling as much anymore, due to the main earthquake having ended, but the aftershocks were still strong enough to send him reeling. It was one such shock that sent Japan's whole body jerking, his head smacking painfully down on the floor; blood matting into his dark brown hair.

Vaguely, he was aware of the fact that he was crying. Blood mixed with the tears, both forcing their way from blood-shot eyes, and ran down his face.

A Room

_'And the devastation continues as, directly after the earthquake ended, a tsunami of amazing heights crashed into the bays of Eastern Japan. The waves are still coming, as they have been for the last three minutes, but none have been as tall as the original wave; one that reached a dizzying height of almost 124 feet.'_

_'The cause of the tsunami has been determined to be the earthquake that hit the same area only minutes ago. At a massive 9.0 on the richtor scale, the aftershocks are ranging from 6.0 on the scale to 7.9. These smaller quakes are doing nothing to help ease the turbulant waters destructive path.'_

_'I'm Kate Willowsby and I'm going to pass this story over to Trina Shephard.'_

A heavy silence filled the cramped room as the scene on the television shifted to show an aerial shot of what was no doubt once a town. There really wasn't much on the screen, save for the dark churning waters and the pieces of rubbage that it was carrying away.

"Bloody hell." England's words pretty much summed up what everyone else in the room was thinking but unable to say. The carnage on the t.v., still being shown only now with added captions about the fires that were raging and the amount assumed dead, had shaken all of the Nation's. "It's no wonder the git had a bloody headache earlier!"

And when those words were said, the spell keeping everyone glued to the televesion was broken. Because that simple statement reminded them all of exactly what was no doubt going on to the physical embodyment of Japan; they all knew what happened to the Nation when a disaster hit the country.

China was the first one to leave the room.

America close behind after catching the warning for his own country.

No one had to declaire the Meeting over.

Japan's House

It wasn't stopping. The horrible waves of pain coursing through his body, up his arms and his legs and broiling in his chest and stomach and head, kept coming. It was like some unseen force had taken up a sledgehammer and was slamming it against him, again and again and _again_!

Japan's vision faded for a minute. All he could see was black. And all he could hear was screams -

_momma, hel-_

_Atsuko! Atsuk-_

_Oto-san? Oto-san? What's goin-_

_It hurts so bad-_

The pounding in his head was worse than it had ever been. Each pulse sent him reeling, unseeing eyes rolling into the back of his head, and his body jerking.

Then everything exploded into color, painfully bright, and it felt like a part of Japan had exploded to. Agonizing wouldn't even be close to describing the feeling. There _were_ no words that could describe the feeling that was suddenly coursing through his body; pain, bruning, icy cold, numb, all at once.

But something in the back of his mind, some little part of him that was still able to think straight, recognized it as the same feeling he'd gotten when America bombed his country during WWII.

Almost at the same time, a strong shaking went through his body. Japan convulsed, trying to curl into himself but not being able to move the way he wanted to. The front of his head made contact with the floor again, and then he was falling backwards...Only his mind was too focused on the feeling of his skin being blown from his left arm and the area around it decomposing on the spot to take any mind to the fact he was suddenly rolling down the steps he'd just climbed.

Over the buzzing in his ears, he could barely make out a crack as his arm swung to the side and got itself stuck in the rungs of the railing.

An almost numb sort of pain laced across his ribs, his side, before shooting up his back in an electrifing jolt.

And then something struck the side of his head and he saw no more.

But the voices still seemed to echo.

Seven Hours Later

"Shit..." America gasped out, face flush against the windows of his plane. "...Shit..." He repeated, because there wasn't anything else that he could say.

He didn't think that he would be able to see anything from his plane, not with his pilot refusing to fly any lower, and for the most part he couldn't. But that wasn't because he was too high up.

It was because everything was engulfed in grey.

Dark, churning grey.

If he squinted hard enough, America could make out the remains of what used to be a fishing town. A roof here, a piece of furniture there, something that looked like it could have passes as a human at one point.

But then the ground shuddered and new waves of grey pushed everything under the surface as the water started to move once more.

Without turning away from the window, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. Never more grateful for speed-dial, he hit a single button and held the device up to his ear.

"Hey, Mr. P? Yeah, it's Alfred. What our the troops doing right now?"

Eight Hours Later

"Da, I've heard." Russia gave a slight nod in England's direction. He was still smiling, though the small-statured Britain was not. "Why?"

"W-what do you mean, why?" England snapped. Of course, he'd pulled the short straw during the draw earlier and ended up getting stuck talking to the Russian nation. And, of course, he had no temper to deal with the psycho that day. It had all been spent when he was trying to convince the Queen to send aid. Saint that she was, she was mite stubborn when it came to sending her men into other countries.

Russia tilted his head to the side. "I mean just what I say, comrade. Why are you asking me if I have heard of Kiku's problems?"

"Because, you git, we all want to know whether you're going to be helping him!"

Russia blinked. The corners of his mouth twitched down slightly, smile sliding from his face for the briefest of moments. If England didn't know better, and he did, mind you, then he would have said that the larger man looked hurt. But then Russia was smiling again and the idea was blown from England's mind.

"Of course I am." Russia stated. "My men are already headed there."

For once, there was no excuse about it being for the cause of Becoming One with Russia.

Nine Hours Since the Meeting

"Jintao-sama?" China questioned, steely brown eyes carefully studying the face of his President.

Please say yes, he thought silently to himself, please give me permission to go to him. Words that he couldn't say out loud, wouldn't say out loud, because he wasn't supposed to care for Japan like that anymore. The younger nation had denounced their status as 'brothers' centuries ago. China could get in trouble for still caring so deeply.

So he hoped for permission but he wasn't going to let it rule him. Even if he was told 'no', he was still going to go. His Di Di was out there; hurt, alone, scared. He'd be damned if he would be told that he wasn't alowed to go to him.

"Hmm...Just don't be gone for too long."

Ten Hours Since the Meeting

_"We've recently heard reports that there have been explosions at one of the nuclear power plants in the same area that the earthquake and the tsunami hit earlier in the day. There are rumors of a leakage in several of the tanks that were not cut in the explosion though nothing has been confirmed as of yet. The death toll is still risi-"_

South Korea cut the reporter off mid-sentence but hitting the power button of his remote. Said piece of electronics hit the ground moments later, bouncing on the wooden floor in a way that was definatly not good for it, as the black-haired man flung himself from his bean bag chair.

In just a few moments, he had slipped on his sandles and slipped out of the house.

Fifteen Hours Since the Meeting

By the time China managed to land his plane in his brothers country, over fifteen hours had passed since he heard about Japan's distress. He only waited a few minutes after knocking, pounding and pounding away at the doors to Japan's house, before just barging in.

And his breath caught in his throat when he walked in, light streaming in from the door the only thing illuminating the building, and saw the younger nation sprawled in a heap on the floor. Limbs were twisted in cringe-worthy manner, blood smeared over pale skin, face pressed against wood.

Time seemed to freeze as China stared at his brother. His Di Di. The nation that he had raised and poured all his love into, time and again, and the one that had made it clear he no longer wanted anything to do with him. China felt like his heart was sinking, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

The first small breathy groan sent him running. One sandle slid off as he sprinted across the floor, the knees of his white pants turning red as he dropped down beside the prone nation.

"Kiku? Kiku, are you awake, aru?" China's voice shook slightly, panic laced into each word. "Tell me you are awake, aru!"

Carefully, he placed one hand on his younger brother's shoulder and rolled him over. A gasp ripped it's way from the usually reserved nations throat as he took in Japan's appearence; the pale skin pulled taunt against his face, dark patches on his cheeks and the scrapes on his chin, the blood running down his forehead and onto the rest of his pale features.

And then his dark eyes landed on Japan's body and he felt his already uneasy stomach start to twist.

The other nations right arm was twisted, clearly broken, and covered in dark bruises and tears in the flesh. But his left arm...In most spots, the skin had been burnt down to nothing, to muscle and bone and boiling blood. The rest of his arm was black, crisp and burnt beyond being blistered. Japan's normally prim clothes were rumpled and torn, soaked crimson in more spots than one.

A tremor wracked the unconsious nations body, strangled sounding coughs leaving a partially open mouth. Blood, tainted with something awful and dark, bubbled out of his mouth and dripped down his chin.

China wasn't even thinking when he carefully pulled Japan into his lap; cradling him against his body, not caring for the mess it was making of his clothes. Japan's head rolled to the side and rested against China's chest, and he almost smiled because his Di Di was still breathing and alive and he'd been so worried, and China pressed his face against the tousled and crusted hair.

"Shh, Di Di. Ji Ji is here now. Others are coming soon to help your country. Do not worry. Shhh..."

And it might just have been his imagination, but China could have sworn that Japan's breathing evened out just a little bit.

Welcome to the Soldier Side,  
>Where there's no one left but me.<br>The people here all grow up to die,  
>Fighting for a land once free.<p>

Crimson stains coat my hands,  
>No matter how much I scrub.<br>So many lives I have taken,  
>And yet a hero I've been dubbed.<p> 


End file.
